Her words were stiff, clearly rehearsed from a script.
I stayed calm. I told Alice the project still needed more time and asked her to keep things in order at home.
She let out a visible sigh of relief and readily agreed.
After hanging up, I told my assistant to arrange a private jet; I had to get home immediately.
I needed to see with my own eyes what my daughter had endured in the three years I’d been away.
In less than twenty minutes, the private jet was ready, with a flight path arranged just for me.
Two hours later, I landed and headed straight home.
But everything had changed. I couldn’t even get through the gate.
“Who are you? Trying to flirt with the lady of the house?”
“Get lost before Mr. Tucker loses his temper!”
Before I returned, I thought only my daughter had been bullied. I never imagined that my existence would even be wiped away.
Since when did Mr. Tucker become master of the house?
I asked coldly, “Don’t you know who I am?”
Not one familiar face stood in the yard.
Because of the classified nature of my work, I had carefully hired four housemaids and six bodyguards, all people with verified backgrounds.
Where had they gone?
“You better leave, or I’m calling the police.”